Sickly and weak are a confused mans dreams,
As he walks through his past engraved with deafening screams.
So many lost moments once frozen in time
Allows a man to believe he's committed a crime.
Not knowing what to do or what road to take;
The confusion grips tightly and constricts like a snake.
But the freedom does ring so true and so sweet,
Emancipation of stupefaction holds thicker than concrete.
And how to obtain this elated bliss, it could be a night a day or epiphanies kiss.
Anything to bring one off the cliff of disarray.
It could happen tomorrow it could happen today.
Methods of logic prove powerful at times,
But the key to freedom is not solely based in the mind.
Abstract reasoning that lyes outside of the box,
Such as the ability to be cunning like a fox.
Resorting to violence is an easy escape,
But it is not the path of which a Socrates takes.
I once knew a boy from Kalamazoo
So locked in confusion he did not know what to do.
His mentor suggested an abstract point of view
But the aspiring mathematician still knew not what to do.
Deeper and deeper the depression sank
And logical thinking was still drawing blanks.
On the sill of his window about twelve stories high
He could not even muster enough emotion to cry.
Now staring into the moon and the great beyond
He was still confused about what went wrong.
With his last glimpse of earth merely for charity,
He found a rebirth as his eye caught clarity.
You see the reflection of the moon resembled a heart on the lake.
He recognized divinity and knew it was not a mistake.
The confusions the problems they may as well all be...